


there will be no tenderness

by kirishimaaa



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension, nothing much happens in actuality but BOY is everything saturated with some sexual undertones, this is the kind of horny where like
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2019-11-28 18:10:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18211793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirishimaaa/pseuds/kirishimaaa
Summary: Naegi Makoto was the definition of a pushover.Stuttering, averted eyes, idiot disposition— really, you could go on and on.Even his appearance seemed to be molded for a submissive, idiotic dog of a human. Short and plain, all wide eyes and naivety, his lack of height and muscle mass being the only thing sticking out about his looks. Truly, he was a loser. Through and through.Byakuya couldn't stop thinking about him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> dunno if this deserves the Mature rating, but the undertones are pretty out there, so i thought i'd put it just in case!!
> 
> this is set after that one scene where makoto actually got to the floor and begged to toko (while she was genocide jack) to get information because it made me NUT

Naegi Makoto was the definition of a pushover.

Stuttering, averted eyes, idiot disposition— really, you could go on and on. 

Even his appearance seemed to be molded for a submissive, idiotic dog of a human. Short and plain, all wide eyes and naivety, his lack of height and muscle mass being the only thing to stick out about his looks. 

Truly, he was a loser. Through and through. 

But actually getting on your knees to beg to the likes of Toko... 

Byakuya had been enraged when he'd gotten wind of it, and he didn't even know why. The ignorant dimwit could embarrass himself all he wants. 

Except that it's been three days, and Byakuya hasn't stopped thinking about it. It crossed his mind more than the game, what held his and everyone else's _lives_ in its hands. Really, this was becoming a problem.

A problem that was currently sitting across from him, not even pretending to be enraptured in the book he'd half-heartedly grabbed before plopping down on a library chair. 

It was perplexing. He'd done nothing but ridicule the boy (rightfully so) but he kept crawling back, not assertive enough to ever demand anything from Byakuya, and also not spineless enough to quit bringing his commoner stench into Byakuya's space. 

First the willing begging, and now this. 

Maybe he was a masochist. It certainly suited his appearance and personality.

"You." Byakuya finally snapped, and Makoto jumped slightly in his chair. "Why are you here?"

"To, uh—" There goes that squeaky voice. Christ. "To read...?"

Byakuya sent a pointed glance to the book in his slackened, disinterested grasp. It was upside down. Makoto realized this and flushed, one of the few expressions on him that didn't make Byakuya want to hit something, strangely enough. 

"Someone like you doesn't read for enjoyment." Byakuya closed his book with an audible snap, putting his full attention on this ordeal. Makoto clumsily did the same.

"Now, I'm going to ask again. Why are you constantly tailing me? Do you fancy being my lap dog or something?"

"O-of course I don't!" Makoto protested. His hands were fists, clenched on top of his legs. A sign of nerves."I just...I just wanted—"

"Go bother someone else about it." Byakuya was losing interest, and fast. He could just feel the upcoming lecture about needing to team up and working together is the only way and all that other nonsense. "Why not Toko, in fact?"

"...Why would I go to her specifically?" Makoto looked confused. 

"Oh, you know." Byakuya waved a hand. "You had no problem getting down on all fours at her request, begging like some sort of desperate mongrel. You two are close, I presume."

Makoto's expression shifted, and this was about the closest Byakuya's seen him look to being annoyed. Genuinely annoyed, even if it was muffled by nervousness. 

"I had to do that!" He exclaimed. My, was he pouting? The length of his childish ways grew ever longer. "It wasn't even Toko, it was genocide Jack. If I hadn't done that, we wouldn't have gotten the information we needed!"

"Sure you wouldn't." Byakuya's voice dropped with sarcasm, because he could certainly play the childish act too. His annoyance had grown each and every time this little brat had dared show up in his presence, sticking his nose into his business, and Byakuya couldn't help putting every bit of past and current frustration into his words. 

"Why are you so mad...?" Makoto's voice grew quieter. "Do you want me to apologize? I don't know what I did to upset you, but I'm sorry, Byakuya. Okay?"

The progeny looked at him a moment, considering. A beat of silence passed, and then two. 

"If you're really sorry, how about you get on all fours and really apologize? You seem to be accustomed to that, after all."

Makoto looked mortified, face crumpling quite satisfyingly. 

He hadn't meant that literally, of course. A rhetorical taunt, something to rile the Makoto up and hopefully make him storm off and leave Byakuya to his books, peace, and silence. 

That's why he nearly choked on his own saliva when Makoto got up without a word, went right in front of him, and did exactly what he'd asked. 

The boy kneeled onto the hard floor, hands clasped pleadingly in front of him. A bowed head bared a pale neck as his eyes trained on the ground. 

Byakuya was damn near slack-jawed. 

Curled in on himself like this, he looked all the more small. He really was a tiny thing. Byakuya distantly wondered just how slender he'd look without all those unnecessary layers on. Just for curiosity’s sake, of course.

"I'm...I'm sorry." He mumbles, looking unsure of himself. His eyes trailed up to focus on Byakuya, uncertain. "Was that okay?"

 _Was that okay._ Good god. Byakuya was having a fever dream, wasn't he. 

"You don't look like you mean it." He would blame whatever he said on temporary insanity. That was all this was. "With Toko, you really put your all into it. I'm disappointed, Naegi."

This best (and worst) part was Makoto looking genuinely guilty, shoulders slumping. 

"I don't know what to do... " 

"You're hopeless." Byakuya rested against his hand, braced on the table, feigning boredom. "For starters, come closer."

Makoto hesitated, so Byakuya snapped, "Do you want my forgiveness or not?"

That seemed to work. 

The boy rushed to get up, but was stopped by a raised hand. "Ah, ah. A proper apology won't do with that. Crawl."

He looked a cross between baffled and flustered, two of Byakuya's least hated expressions for him. What a treat this was. 

He obeyed with the barest hesitation and no vocal protests, refusing to look at Byakuya as he did so. 

When all was said and done, he was inches away from Byakuya's crossed legs, looking as if he hadn't a single clue what was happening anymore.

"Good." The praise slipped out accidentally, but that way Makoto perked up, staring up at him with something akin to hope in his eyes, was _certainly_ interesting. Like the family dog wanting a belly rub. "Now apologize properly."

Head meeting the floor as he bent down in earnest, joined hands nearly touching Byakuya's shoes. That gave Byakuya an eyeful of his hair, unruly as it was. 

Much too long, too wild. It made him want to fist a hand into it and pull, hear what sort of sounds, whining protests and pleas, Makoto would make. 

"I'm sorry." Makoto spoke clearly, voice only slightly muffled by the floor. "Please forgive me... "

With that, he rose up, enough to be able to look up at Byakuya with pleading, hopeful eyes. 

His mouth was awfully dry all of a sudden. He swallowed it back and gave no attention to the thrumming of his own heartbeat in his ears. 

Makoto flinched when the sole of Byakuya's shoe nudged against his shoulder, before staying there. Applying no pressure, simply letting his foot rest there, inches from a vulnerable throat. 

He licked his lips, didn't miss Makoto tracking the movement. He was beginning to think that flush of red, resting high on his cheekbones and the tips of his ears, wasn't just from embarrassment. 

"I think," Byakuya said, and his voice was noticeably lower. He cleared his throat. "I think you can be forgiven."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> didn't expect to write any sort of little add-on to this, but i got sad and then inspiration hit me like a brick! these two are the opposite of healthy, and id be lying if i said that wasn't what i loved about their dynamic. something about this pair just gets me into writing so much! writing from byakuya's snooty, thirsty perspective probably helps haha.

Shy, nerve-ridden Makoto was truly Byakuya's favorite kind.

Byakuya wasn't even all that upset at him, and this whole thing had started over something so minor and unimportant, but...

What can he say? He liked being apologized to.

It wasn’t admirable, or by _any_ means healthy, but then again…what exciting things were?

Right now, it was just the two of them in the cafeteria. Makoto hadn't worked up the guts to say anything yet, but it was just so blatantly obvious that Byakuya had to hold back a smirk. The way his hands fidgeted, how his eyes slid over to Byakuya before shifting away nervously. 

Makoto was so bad at subtlety that it could nearly be called endearing, if Byakuya was ever nice enough to say such a thing. 

“U-um, Byakuya?” 

Bingo. All it took was 3 and a half minutes, too. Makoto really was a weakling. 

Byakuya merely turned to look at him, albeit for the first time since he’s shown up. He took pride in his ability to give a good, soul-crushing unimpressed expression, and Makoto’s kicked puppy eyes tell him that he succeeded. 

“What?” It comes out cold, and he follows the snapped retort up with a sigh. Makoto flinches, shoulders tense. 

“About earlier…” He drags out, and then his voice gets whisper-quiet. “Are you mad?”

“I’m not angry.” Byakuya states calmly, watching Makoto’s expression turn hopeful. “I’m just disappointed that you’d _knowingly_ do something that would upset me.”

Disappointment implied that Byakuya had hope in Makoto before, and he knew that the other boy would pick up on that. It was textbook, really. Make him feel lower than low, and get him looking nice and pitiful with just a few venomous words. 

Makoto looks crushed, and that’s exactly what he’d been aiming for. Call him cruel if you wish. It wasn’t like he was going to leave the little runt like that.

He truly never changed, and that predictability is exactly what Byakuya liked about him. He knew what was coming, in about 3, 2, 1...

“I’m sorry.” Makoto mumbles. When Byakuya finally looks at him, he sees that his head is bowed. “Please don’t be upset.”

“I’ll feel what I please.”

“What...what can I do to earn your forgiveness?” Makoto swallows, and when he meets Byakuya’s gaze, he looks so sincere that it actually manages to catch him off guard. 

“Hm,” Byakuya keeps his poker face; picks at his nails carelessly. “I can think of a good start. Get on your hands and knees.”

“Huh?” There’s the wide-eyed, stupid look he so dearly cherished. 

“I don’t like repeating myself.” His eyes narrow. “You heard me.”

Makoto looks at him, and then looks at the floor, and then looks back up at him again. His face flushes, whether it be from nerves or something else.

“But...the others…” He takes a brief look toward the door, where any student could pop in. At any moment. “What if they…?”

“Well, if you don’t want them getting in on the show…” Byakuya grinned, and it held nothing but dried, festering maliciousness. “I’d say you should hurry up.”

Makoto’s flush deepens. He’s slow to drop to his knees, but once he does, Byakuya leans forward in his seat. 

Not being subtle about the amount he was paying attention, and letting Makoto know that. Letting him bask in the attention, because they both knew that he ate it up. Whether he admitted it or not. 

An idea comes to him, and he raises a hand, signaling for Makoto to cease moving. “Ah-ah! I want you to take your jacket off before you continue.”

_“What?”_

“Both of them.” Byakuya sends an unimpressed look at Makoto’s poor, stuffy fashion choices. “It’s a little hot in here, don’t you think? You certainly look as if you’re feeling the heat. Your face is so _red_ , after all. I’m doing you a favor, aren’t I?”

It’s silent for a bit. Byakuya doesn’t let up, and stares at the boy with raised eyebrows. There was no _if he was going to obey_ , here. Just when. 

Finally, Makoto exhales. It comes out shaky. His hands trail toward his unbuttoned gakuran top. 

The sound of fabric hitting the floor was overwhelmingly satisfying. His fingers stay glued to that horrendous coat he likes to wear, and he looks back up at Byakuya, eyebrows drawn.

Byakuya merely tilted his head. _Get on with it, will you?_

Finally, Makoto does. _Ziiiiiip_. Slow and pausing. Not even halfway down yet. 

What a tease. 

“You’re looking less overheated by the minute.” Byakuya observes, knowing damn well the school thermostat was at the lukewarm, slightly-chilly setting it’s always been at. “Thanks to me.”

“Uh-Huh.” Makoto sounds obedient. If not somewhat overwhelmed. When he pauses in his task and looks back up at Byakuya, his eyes are lidded. “Thank you, Byakuya.”

_Ziiiiiiiiiiiiiip._

His ears suddenly go hot, and he swallows back the butterflies piling in his stomach. Good Christ.

Makoto’s other coat hits the floor as well, leaving him in a thin, wrinkled undershirt. Without all the bulk of unnecessary clothing, he looked even more petite than he already did. 

He could probably lift the little runt with one arm. Maybe dangle him upside down, listen to his annoying whining, and watch him flail helplessly. 

If only Byakuya could indulge in such childish things. Perhaps another day, when he wasn’t already completely preoccupied with a different kind of teasing Makoto. 

“Good.” Byakuya finally says, smirking when Makoto perked up, eyes wide and hopeful. Such a dog. “Now, you know what to do.”

That he did, and he didn’t waste time. He crawled toward Byakuya, delicate knees and hands against the dirtied cafeteria floor. 

With his position, the shirt droops toward the floor enough to give Byakuya a good, long look at the narrow chest hidden beneath. 

He entertains the idea of what’d it feel like to snake a hand in that oversized shirt, feeling whatever he could reach, and delighting in Makoto’s flustered gasp.

Once again, perhaps another day. 

Makoto is in front of Byakuya’s dress shoes before he knows it, and he wastes no time bowing his head. Byakuya stares at the delicate curve of his spine, at the way his hips flared out slightly. 

He wonders, just for a moment, if Makoto would have obeyed, had Byakuya demanded that last shirt come off as well.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” It’s loud and overly-apologetic, because Makoto wasn’t a saint either. He knew just what to say, and how to act, in order to gain favor. “I promise you, I won’t do it again. Can you forgive me?”

“Hm…” Byakuya pretends to think about it, finger tapping against his chin. “I’ll have to see if you’re sincere. Look at me.”

Just like that, Makoto does. He’s flushed, heavily so, and breathing heavily. Byakuya couldn’t say he was likely in a better state, but what can he say? 

“What a face.” 

When Byakuya holds out his hand, Makoto is quick to grab it in his, placing a lingering, moist-hot kiss against the back of it. Byakuya exhales slow, licking his lips. He crosses his legs, swallowing at the tightening pressure down south. 

He just _really_ like being apologized to, alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (if anyone's curious, i also publish these two in a one-shot pairing fic i have for danganronpa, along with a buuuunch of other pairs and weird sexual tension abound, haha. you can read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18458411)
> 
> i hope anyone who reads this enjoyed!!!
> 
> (feel free to imagine toko at the cafeteria door, absolutely losing her shit at what she's bearing witness to ;D)

**Author's Note:**

> me, halfway into DR1: god byakuya's such an asshole...
> 
> me, three-quarters into DR1: he's still an ass. I LOVE HIM
> 
> i always end up hating and then eventually adoring the absolute asshole characters :') me starting to ship him with makoto probably helped that. 
> 
> i hope anyone who read this little thing enjoyed!!!


End file.
